Falling Faster
by Deamon's Eyes
Summary: AU. The mafia wasn't the worst thing Iemitsu was willing to be involved in. In fact, it looked pathetically ordinary compared to the Thing he manages to get his hands on when his precious Tsunayoshi (Nana's last wish) is stillborn.


Oval reading glasses rimmed with silver perched on his nose as he read one of his many historical texts, this one focused on beings too grotesque to be called gods but just as powerful. He had a particular interest in history. It helped filled the chasm that Nana left (_or at least distract him from it_). Information and facts, lead to reasons and avenues of research, lead to hope and new faith in obscure beliefs. He had blond hair and along with hazel eyes on a young face and tall build, most would wrongly believe him late twenties (_too young to love as much and as deeply as he had_).

It was strange he was so in love with her, his friends commented (_when he still had them_). She was oblivious and not the smartest thing out there. Prone to drifting off into her own world but not in a dreamer fashion, simply a mindless daze. Made friends as easily as she was tricked by them. He on the other hand could play the society game; manipulate people as naturally as he could act the gentleman. However he couldn't hide from her the way he delighted in her smile when he presented fanciful gifts (_even when they were much too expensive to belong to a construction worker_). His joy when she came to him for comfort after a frustrating days work (_to be relied on, to be trusted so completely - it was a rush_). She knew his quirks and didn't distance herself (_though she should have_).

She was (_flawed, naive_) so beautiful.

The funeral was difficult (_because all he wanted to do when he saw her corpse was to tear out of the cemetery and into the fuckers that did it - call Oregano even though he had been mafia-free for years now_). He loved her (_wasn't there all the time, but he still loved her_). He honoured her last wish for a family as soon as he returned home and had headed out on to the street with his wallet thick with hundred dollar bills.

A mobile phone murmured a haunting tune, loud in the silence, and pulled him from the past. He sang along softly, placing the book on a small table beside his couch and searching for the device (_'I can't drown my demons~ they know how to swi~im.' He was not fond of music but some things just catch your attention_).

The voice on the other end called him to the hospital.

There are complications with the birth and he is ordered out by the doctor. He is curious more than worried but doesn't let it show, soon relenting to the nurse's urging and leaves the room as the woman screams and curses and begs for anesthesia that wouldn't come. He manages to linger long enough to catch a quick glance at the child. The baby looks like him at first glance (_and he is glad he doesn't take after the woman_). He waited calmly, content in the knowledge he has filled his love's wish, but the hours stroll by and then swagger and then loiter with a cigarette between its lips, catcalling at pretty girls who pass.

The woman bleeds out and leaves an already dead infant (_to show for all his troubles_). He leaves for home as soon as an old nurse presents the news in a conciliatory tone and dead eyes, already seen so much in her career. It is late when he locks the door behind him, dropping an umbrella to the floor in defeat, water spreading on the wood, reaching tendrils to his shoes. He turns the idea of sleeping over in his head (_as his hands count pills out on the kitchen table – failure will be met with death_).

Then his eyes catch a framed picture and she darts through his memories - the sound of thunder times his revival. His heart beats to her laughter and he agrees to live for a distant face but a love so strong it _aches_. The lightning illuminates his vicious struggle with the books packed tight in the study. Rain covers pages torn out and spread over the floor. No one is there for relieved sobbing (_that turned into hysterical, maddened laughter_).

And he falls… and falls… and falls… he was always so impulsive.

* * *

A man with a kind smile slides past tired doctors at the end of their shift, walking straight into the morgue and opening the cold drawer with gloves found on the counter. His smile only grows as he finds a baby with brown hair so much like his mother in name. He holds it gently (_although he knows it is just meat and blood held together around bones, not yet alive or valuable – he had turned so many people into this state_). The child is shifted to one arm as the man opens another drawer. He turns to a counter; snatching up a scalpel before throwing it down, realising he would need something more appropriate.

When he breaks the last rib out of the way he is able to reach in, taking the woman's heart he had cut around earlier, leaving the last payment of hundreds of dollars in its place as per the agreement. He smiles and the drive home flashes by. The front door is unlocked and the baby is quickly laid on its cot. The veined, purple thing people call a heart is dumped out of its plastic bag and into a basin of warm water. The water turns red and then black before red gains dominance once more. He makes sure to copy the book exactly as he paints symbols and swirls and desperation onto his son with his own fingers.

(_His son._ _It was a simple matter to find blood. If this was the abyss he would gladly take the plunge for his old and new love, for his family_.)

* * *

The young boy is alone in a dark house, curled upon a bed too large to be his. They're tear tracks on his face and he clutches a worn orange lion tightly to his chest as a last defence, even in sleep. The boy's father arrives past midnight, stumbling through the door and clutching at a spreading red stain on his abdomen, the hospital bracelet on his wrist declaring his details in bold. He is panting and panicked when he finds his son, having been cursing out a robber and his greed – not to mention bleeding sluggishly from ripped stitches. Brown eyes widen when he spots the figure curled up on his bed, before he collapses after seeing his son safe, packaged blood forgotten.

A day later the 9 year old is seen twisted and disfigured, splayed on the pavement like a toy abandoned. Children of the school a street down sob into their parent's shoulders as the adults gawk. A small black haired boy with sharp grey eyes tightens his hands into fists – he was too late to protect one of his herbivores. A blond man with a neat goatee is hidden behind a gathering of police questioning witnesses on the driver's features. He slips into the back of an ambulance moments before his son is loaded on, the fluoro vest disguising him more than being invisible would. He ushers the other paramedics out with confidence, closing the doors behind him as he steps out, heading for the driver's seat.

He lays his son gently on the kitchen table and searches for his father's equipment. People described the man's father as a beast of a human, tall and intimidating with reflexes a bit too fast to belong to an untrained civilian. Most of all he was very good at hunting, and he taught all he knew to his son (_so really, there was no doubt he would find the drunk idiots_). All that's left of the men are splatters of blood on walls that used to be a creamy white once upon a time. He stands in the middle of the room, feet squelching on the carpet (_so much blood, how does his prey always have so much to give_). Straight but for his head bowed slightly, facing a Dark Smudge of colour –a glitch in the system. Three hearts leak out at his feet, still so fresh, just as the book dictates.

The Unnatural doesn't speak but swirls forward - flashing into a tall man in a black suit and fedora, a short man in a leather biker suit, a woman in a white dress and puffy hat - and the hearts disappear under the_ redbluegreenblackvioletorangeindigoyellow_. It isn't satisfied and one line of blood is painted on his forehead. Two, three. It swirls back – man in army uniform, a traditional Chinese top and a braid - and the man can only nod at the command, animalistic instincts screaming for him to submit, to fight, or to run (_however, he is the product of evolution, and simply meets it with a smile so polite it was patronizing_).

That night a strict looking man reports a triple homicide to a dark room. The father appears over the back of the couch and smiles down at the son sprawled over with his head resting on an arm. The boy turns to him with a beautiful smile and flicks off the TV, only a distant kitchen light guides them. He hops off the couch and snatches his fathers hand as he dart pass, dragging the older man to the table full of food, flicking on the lights on as they pass the switch.

* * *

Far older now, at the age of 17 and much more handsome and adventurous than pretty and scared, the son comes home late to a panicked father. He is grabbed by the shoulders and brought into a hug. He pulls back after a while of just standing and raises a confused eyebrow before simply trudging up to his room in a tried daze; mud and dirt sprinkle his form and camping equipment. The smell of nature still clings to him, following leisurely.

That night the father sits outside his son's room on the floor with one arm resting on an upraised knee and one leg stretched out, awaiting the Smudge that forms from his own shadow. It stretches high – woman with blue hair and a red scar, man in a lab coat - to the ceiling and lurches down in rage – someone in a cloak, some_thing_ in bandages - stopping millimetres from the father. The son is sleeping away in his room, still with an orange lion to his chest as protection. He always did have excellent intuition; he knows something dangerous is here. The wall near the fathers head cracks and peels as if a claw dragged itself down, jagged and angry. Two, three, four, five, six, seven.

The Unnatural doesn't wait for acknowledgement of the order, but collapses and coalesced into nothing.

* * *

Bloodied concrete.

_Gre**en**._

Organs free from warm casing.

_Vi**o**let._

Bare bones.

_**Bl**ack._

A silent tension with a quick strike, no chance for screams of **ter**r_orpl_easewhy_what__**a**_**r**eyou.

_Re**d**._

One, two, three, four...

_Indi**go**._

One, two...

_**Bl**ue._

One, two, three...

_Y**el**low. _

a_ga_ina**g**a_i_n_agi_n

_Or**ang**e._

sm_udge_blu**rr**unat_u_ralda_rks__**h**_adowi_tsco_m**ing**

* * *

The hospital room with its sparse furniture and light grey walls holds the muted horror in to an alarming degree. It bounced off the walls harder each time, throwing the lone conscious occupant head first into despair. The bed held an exhausted brown haired woman who slept peacefully, none the wiser, and a shivering man sat in a hard chair by the bed side. His hands held a heavy head and equally heavy tears at bay.

An older man slipped into the private room and spread a dark blue blanket on the thin shoulders. A hand pushed back brown hair before setting on a back, rubbing to comfort and reassure. He leaned down and locked his brown eyes onto a matching pair (_penny in the air_). He broke the stifling silence; secrets to dark to be spoken in anything other than suppressed whispers passed from father to son. The young man raised his head to look past his father, the wall and this earth (_penny drops_).

* * *

"Who are you and how did you get in here?!"

"Dame-Tsuna, you need to be more aware of your surroundings."

"Cut him some slack, kora. His father never did show him the book."

"Muu, hurry up. If you want to waste my time you'll have to pay."

"I apologise for my companions Tsunayoshi-san, but would you mind helping us?"

"Skull-sama demands you come with us- ouch!"

"Our colleague is sick and nothing I have is able to cure her, if you were to come with us Luce may have a chance."

"O-okay, I'll try to help but I'm not a doctor."

"That is fine Tsunayoshi Sawada, you only need accompany us."

* * *

**A/N-**

For those who couldn't guess, at the end it goes Tsuna, Reborn, Colonello, Viper, Fon, Skull, Verde, back to Tsuna and then Bermuda.

Also, it's open ended but my view was that they took Tsuna to wherever and then ate him, just for kicks. _Jks! Srsly, clm dwn ppls._ However, I would like to hear anyone else's guesses.


End file.
